


Snap!

by gblvr



Category: CSI: Las Vegas
Genre: M/M, kink:latex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-26
Updated: 2009-06-26
Packaged: 2017-10-02 10:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gblvr/pseuds/gblvr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gil has a thing for latex gloves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snap!

Gil likes to fuck and be fucked by men -- he likes men that look like men, and dress like men, and sound and smell like men. He likes the hardness of muscle under his fingers in place of soft curves, and he loves surrendering to the strength of another man. He's never really gotten off on the idea of drag queens or transvestites, so he's not sure why he likes the androgynous appearance that latex gloves force onto some people's hands. He's spent hours contemplating the idea, staring at his own gloved hand in an effort to understand why he likes it, but it doesn't work with his hands. They're too masculine, too square and blunt.

But Greg's hands are narrow, with long, almost feminine fingers, and seeing them encased in latex is hot in a way that Gil never expected. Anytime Greg is gloved, Gil has to force himself to pay close attention to what he's saying, and doing, to make sure no one can see how much he's turned on by the combination of Greg and latex. There have been a few times he's slipped up -- when he's worked too many shifts in a row, or when a particularly nasty case comes along and he needs something, anything, to take his mind off the particulars of the crime.

Tonight is one of those nights. A really messy serial has landed in their laps -- years and years of evidence found in an even dozen chest freezers stored in the suspect's basement, along with marked maps of the desert and boxes of pictures featuring dead and mutilated little girls. It's the kind of case that really gets to Gil -- he's never been able to understand people who do things like this to children.

Greg is in the lab, sorting and cataloguing the non-biological evidence they'd retrieved: things like barrettes and charm bracelets and snippets of ribbon -- trophies, things the killer had taken from the victims. Everything is bagged, but Greg is exercising extra caution and is putting on a pair of gloves before he begins to shift the sealed bags into piles on the light table.

Gil hears the snap from the hallway, and he stops so quickly that Nick walks into him from behind. Gil stumbles forward as Nick apologizes, and Greg smirks at Gil and snaps his glove again.

Gil steps aside to let Nick keep walking, then enters the lab. He pushes the door mostly shut before he crosses to stand next to Greg, who is continuing to snap the latex against the inside of his wrist.

"Greg? What are you doing?"

Greg tries to look innocent, and fails as he says, "I'm sorting evidence, like you asked me to."

"No, I mean, what are you doing with your glove?" Gil pulls at the rolled edge of the glove as he speaks, snapping it himself before he ghosts his fingers along the back of Greg's hand.

"Like that, do you?" Greg's voice has dropped to its lowest register, and the low purr of it rolls across Gil's jangling nerves like cool water. "Want me to use these for something other than handling evidence?"

Gil can't help it; he moans aloud at the thought of Greg's hands covered in latex and lube, fingers slipping in one at a time until his whole hand is inside, slippery and hard as he fists Gil. Gil loves lying across Greg's lap, with his dick trapped between his stomach and Greg's legs as he is slicked up and splayed open, pinned down by the sharp ache of Greg's hand moving inside him.

He shudders, leaning in close to Greg, pushing against his hip and twitching his fingers against Greg's wrist.

Greg seems to realize he's taken the tease too far, and frowns, turning his hand over, grasping Gil's fingers before he can snap the edge of the glove again. "I know what you're thinking about, and you can have it, Gil, as soon as we get out of here." Greg gives Gil's fingers a squeeze before he lets go and steps back.

Gil follows, crowding into Greg's space, forcing the issue in a way he wouldn't if they were at home -- he never has any problems with boundaries there, but in the lab, their positions are reversed, and he can't help but to push. Greg steps back again, this time with a frown and a sharp shake of his head.

Gil has just drawn breath to speak, when someone pushes the door open.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gil can see Catherine looking at him like he's lost his mind, and the sharply indrawn breath he hears must be Sara. He knows what it looks like, because what it looks like is what it is....

With a mumbled apology, he pushes past them all, making sure to hold the file folder in his hand in front of his lower body to disguise his erection. He can hear Catherine asking Greg what happened, and he doesn't stick around to hear what Greg says -- he'll tell him if he needs to know.

Right now he needs to go into his office, needs to close the door and turn out the lights and think about anything but Greg's hands covered in latex, or the way Greg's eyes had narrowed at him when he tried to push. He needs to calm down, and focus on work, and not the hot flash of anger he'd seen in Greg's eyes as he left the lab. It's a near thing, but he does make it, closes the door before he loses it completely.

As soon as he can move again, he turns the lock and crosses to his desk, where he cleans up as best he can, and resolutely does not think of what will happen when he and Greg get home.


End file.
